


In Session

by pheronix



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Medical School AU, POV First Person, potential angst, potential smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 12:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16810843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pheronix/pseuds/pheronix
Summary: When you get to medical school, the last thing you expect to find is love. Yet here is this tall, pale, handsome man. Did you ever even stand a chance?





	In Session

**Author's Note:**

> Eep hi! My first Arcana story and second fic in about 8 years! There will be some inserts like [hair color] [eye color] [your name] because I wanted this to be kind of fun and immersive! Hoping to update soon!

“I assure you, your presence will be welcomed.” The professor who sat across from you smiled, warmth in their purple eyes.   
“Thank you,” you sighed, and couldn’t help but smile back, “I’m just anxious.”  
The corners of those eyes crinkled as the teacher gave your hands, clasped on the table in front of you, a reassuring pat.   
“And there’s nothing wrong with that. I promise we’re a...diverse bunch. Not stuffy types, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You were worried about that. Your hair was dyed [favorite color], and though you’d intended on removing your nose ring and ear rings before this meeting, you forgot in your haste this morning.   
“Thank you, er...”  
“Please. Nazali is fine.” Nazali rose from their seat. A strand of red hair fell into their face as they extended a hand to you and enveloped yours in a strong handshake. “Welcome.”

Your meeting with Nazali yesterday had eased some of your fears at the time, but now, as you made your way to your first class in grad school...the butterflies had returned to your stomach in full force. Microbiology, bright and early.   
You were a transfer, a special case, but Nazali had convinced you that you could make up the two missed weeks easily outside of class. Microbiology, Biochemistry, Foundation of Medicine, Immunology. You could do this. You rock. You - ack. An uneven break in the sidewalk derailed your train of thought and you stumbled, catching yourself before you fell to the ground. 

‘Great, faceplant on your first day. Go into class with a bloody nose and bruised face, why not?’ you took a breath and kept walking, thankful that you were early and the campus was only peppered with students here and there. No one to see your massive almost-fail. You set your jaw as you approached your building, and, head high, pushed open the door. 

• • •

You were relieved to see a friendly face once you reached your classroom.   
“Ah! There she is!” Nazali smiled warmly, speaking to no one in particular. The room was next to empty, a couple students spread throughout, lost in their thoughts and paperwork. “I’m glad you decided to join us,” Nazali winked. “There’s no assigned seating, so pick whichever chair you like.” You swallowed. Nazali chuckled. “No one usually sits right there, second from the end.” They pointed at a maroon chair near the far side of the room, but still near the front. You nodded appreciatively.   
“Thank you, ah...”  
“Nazali.” They finished, tilting their head.   
“Nazali.” It felt so informal calling the professor by their name, but if they insisted...in undergrad, most of your teachers had chips on their shoulders. Old fashioned, mostly men, who insisted upon being referred to with the proper titles and honorifics. The person before you with gray and red hair and warm violet eyes was not what you were used to. 

You went to your chair, setting your messenger bag on your lap and pulling out your syllabus and necessary materials before setting it on the ground beside you. You opened a notebook and neatly printed the date and name of the class at the top of the first page...before flipping to a page near the back and doodling absently. You preoccupied yourself in attempt to ease your nerves as more people began trickling into the classroom. Nazali greeted them each by name, occasionally asking a student about their goings-on the night before. ‘They’ve got to be pretty involved in everyone’s life,’ you thought. Yet, it didn’t feel strange. It felt welcoming and genuine. You felt the corners of your mouth turn upwards as you drew a small Nazali face, lock of hair hanging down to the side. 

“Quite the rendering,” a voice chuckled from your left side, “what’s an artist doing in microbiology?” You jumped out of your skin, instinctively lowering your hand to conceal the doodle.   
“Oh! I’m sorry. I thought you saw me come in.” The chuckling stopped as you whipped your head to the source of the voice. A tall man stood behind you, cool gray eyes wide.   
“Um, that’s okay. Sorry.” You sputtered back, flustered.   
“Don’t be sorry,” the man visibly relaxed, and after a moment, smiled. “Anyway, Julian.” He held out a hand and tilted his head, auburn locks falling to the side. You felt your face grow warm. You were suddenly very glad you didn’t show up to class with a bloody nose and a bruised face.


End file.
